A Day In the Life
by American Hermione
Summary: A haunting one-day glimpse into Snape's life- he is not all that he seems.


A Day in the Life  
by American Hermione  
  
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Severus Snape dusted the ashes off of his clothes and stepped from the fireplace into his room. His long fingers absently rubbed his temples as his brow furrowed.  
  
Hola, hola! screeched his parrot.  
  
Silencio, Elizabeth, no ahora, no ahora... sighed Snape.  
  
He turned and faced the mirror. A haunted reflection stared back; his own sad, frightened eyes, sunken cheeks, and tight mouth appeared to him the face of a stranger.  
  
Snape abruptly turned from his reflection as if ashamed. He sank into his desk chair and reached for a quill, opening a leather-bound journal.  
  
I was forced to attend another Dark Revel tonight, and despite it all failed to find any new information. It is difficult enough being a double agent, but tonight I witnessed so many horrors-  
  
His quill stopped scratching and he wiped his eyes with th back of his hand.  
  
Muggle killings, rapes, worse- and all of this I am helpless to prevent. I cannot bear the risk of revealing my true identity-  
  
Snape paused again as a vision came unbidden to his mind- the haunted, pleading eyes of a Muggle girl, that had held his just before they killed her. He shook his head vehemently, trying to forget, but failed. Snape held his head in his hands and wept bitterly, tears spattering the ink of his diary. Elizabeth was the only witness.  
  
In the morning he awoke, the memories of the Revel still harsh in his mind. He briefly considered taking the day off, until those desperate eyes came to mind again, and he resolved to stay a strong agent, to prevent further deaths...  
  
Snape skipped breakfast and made his way to class.  
  
--------------  
  
Ron peered at Snape and turned to Harry.  
  
Snape's hair- it's not greasy- he whispered.  
  
Snape saw Ron's astonishment and wondered what it stemmed from. He unconsciously ran his hand through his hair, which was silky, not limp with grease.  
  
Snape silently cursed his error, retreated to his office, and rang the bell for a servant.  
  
Two minutes later Dobby appeared, bulbous eyes terrified. Y-Yes, sir?  
  
Fetch from my room a small bottle labeled Hair Dye- it should be on a shelf on the left- and be quick, man! he barked coldly. Dobby nodded and ran out.  
  
Snape hit his hand against the wall in frustration. How had he let his mask slip, even for a moment?  
  
Dobby returned with the bottle.  
  
You may go, snapped Snape, snatching the potion.  
  
The house elf hurriedly shuffled out, and Snape applied the contents of the bottle to his head. He felt his hair and found it back to its usual state.  
  
He strode back into the classroom and found the class in disarray.  
  
Snape barked.  
  
The class fell silent.  
  
Today in Potions we will cover the techniques...  
  
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That night, Snape returned to his room. His parrot cawed. Como estas? Como estas?  
  
Estoy cansada, Elizabeth, Snape sighed, falling into his bed.  
  
Suddenly a knock came at the door.  
  
P-Professor Snape? stuttered the voice of Neville Longbottom.  
  
Snape strode to the door and threw it open. What is it, Longbottom?  
  
You said to... to report for detention... Neville's eyes briefly met his, a near mirror of the Muggle girl's. Snape flinched despite himself, feeling a sudden rush of shame.  
  
Detention is canceled for today. said Snape. Consider yourself... lucky.  
  
Thank you, s-sir! Neville stammered, retreating.  
  
Snape closed the door. He trembled. That was his second slip of the day, and he could not afford another if he was to stay a spy- or even stay alive.  
  
He silently mixed his nightly sleeping draught with shaking fingers and downed it in a gulp.  
  
Buenas noches, Severus, squawked Elizabeth.  
  
Snape tried to reply but no sound came from his lips. Frantic, he dipped a finger into the remainder of the potion he had just consumed and tasted it carefully.  
  
he mouthed. He had added too much wormwood, creating a draught of silence, not a draught of sleep.  
  
Angry, silent tears slipped down his sunken cheeks. He had made another mistake. He knew he couldn't last like this.  
  
He picked up the day's mail. All of them were bills, except one-  
  
Severus Snape, you are cordially invited to a Dark Revel...  
  
Snape knew he must attend if he were to stay alive, but did not know how much longer he could endure this life of deception and horrors...  
  
He put down the mail and prayed he could keep his front for a few more days.. just a few more...  
  
And he fell asleep seeing those haunted eyes once more, pleading with him, pleading for mercy- the mercy he craved himself.


End file.
